


The Girl in the Dragonfly Dress

by vanillafluffy



Category: Prodigal Son (TV 2019)
Genre: Blood and Gore, Blood and Guts, Developing Relationship, F/M, First Dates, Friendship/Love, Geek Love, Geeks, Pre-Relationship, Romance, Social Awkwardness, They both have a morbid sense of humor, charity - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-24
Updated: 2020-07-24
Packaged: 2021-03-04 20:13:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,608
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25482205
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vanillafluffy/pseuds/vanillafluffy
Summary: Malcolm  accidentally texts Edrisa an invitation to one of his mother's charity functions. Their evening is anything but boring.
Relationships: Malcolm Bright/Edrisa Tanaka
Comments: 19
Kudos: 126
Collections: Bite Sized Bits of Fic from 2020





	The Girl in the Dragonfly Dress

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Cornerofmadness](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cornerofmadness/gifts).



Mistakes happen. They happen from being short on sleep (frequently), tired (always) or when one would rather being doing something else--like now, when Malcolm would rather be on a case.

He means to text Edrisa a link to an article about bog mummies that he thinks she’ll enjoy. Instead, he accidentally sends her a copy of the invitation his mother sent him for a plus one to her upcoming benefit for South American tribes affected by the fires in the rainforest. Oops.

He doesn’t realize what he’s done until she calls him back, bubbling up with enthusiasm and asking what she should wear.

Of course, then it’s too late to do anything but pretend that he’d meant to ask her all along. Anything else would crush her, and Malcolm genuinely enjoys Edrisa--she loves the gory puzzles they solve as much as he does--and hurting her feelings on purpose is beyond him.

On the evening of the event, he’s surprised to see how elegantly she’s dressed. Her work garb is functional and basic. Tonight she’s neither. “You look very nice,” he compliments her as they’re driven to the hotel hosting the function.

Clearly, Edrisa has taken some pains with her appearance. She has on a long, off-the-shoulder dress, simply cut, in a soft spring green brocade. Woven into it is a subtle pattern of dragonflies, flashing blue when they catch the light. A carved jade pendant on a braided gold chain is her only ornament, but the dark green jade against the pale green of the dress is a striking contrast. It’s a major change from her usual lab coats.

“I wasn’t sure--you said formal, so I looked at some pictures in the society pages to see what other women dressed like for this kind of thing. I’m even wearing my contacts.”

He’s noticed. He’s also noticed carefully applied make-up, smooth shining hair and delicate notes of fragrance, some tender blossom…. Mother will approve.

Malcolm knows how the evening will go: preliminary mob for cocktails and hors d’ouevers, seated dinner, appeals for money beginning with the dessert course, probably breaking up between ten and eleven p.m.. He’s attended dozens of them over the years…but never in such stunning company.

The banquet room is at less than half capacity when they arrive. Banners trumpet the Managuador Relief Fund as this evening’s charity, and the room has been decorated with a number of handsome weavings representing the typical regional textiles. The menu includes Managuadorean cuisine, and the background music of drums and flutes is apparently also traditional songs of the tiny country.

The hor d’ouevers are top quality and there are a variety of tasty options. Malcolm and Edrissa are sampling them when Milton and Suzanne Franciscus, long-time friends of Jessica’s greet him. Malcolm introduces Edrisa as “my friend, Dr. Tanaka”, and has to endure some none-too-subtle ribbing from Milt about playing doctor later.

Suzanne looks mortified and changes the subject. “This is such a worth cause,” she says hastily. “The wildfires in the Amazon hit Managuador very hard. They lost seventy-three percent of their sheep and goats, which were both food and a source of income.” She glances across the room toward the array of woven tapestries. “We visited there three years ago--it’s such a beautiful country. We must help them recover.”

Edrisa straightens. “Sheep and goats? Right now, they’re more in need of medical aid--the displaced tribes have been experiencing an outbreak of Amazonian Hemorrhagic Fever. I just read the most fascinating journal article about it--”

“Oh, dear.” Mrs. Franciscus bites her lip. “I hope that’s not too serious.”

“It’s less infectious that Ebola,” Edrisa enlightens her, “and the autopsies show that the internal organs are less prone to liquefying. The survival rate is roughly double Ebola, but there are serious side-effects, such as the petechial hemorrhaging--that’s has been known to cause temporary and sometimes permanent blindness.” Her audience wears identical deer-in-the-headlights stares. Blithely, she continues. “In some cases, the blood turns the sclera of the eyes completely red! Furthermore--”

Milton Franciscus looks at Malcolm and says quietly, “I’ll donate a thousand dollars if you can get her to stop talking.”

“Two thousand,” his wife overrides him. “And I’ll throw in a door prize--your mother can raffle off the weaving we loaned for the evening.”

Edrisa has stopped, looking surprised that the couple isn’t fascinated by her information. She’s even more surprised when Malcolm puts his arm around her waist and steers her away.

“They’re civilians, you know,” he reminds her once they’re out of earshot. “Probably not a good idea to bring up icky stuff like blood and guts.”

She rolls her eyes. “Oh, alright. I was just trying to make the point that Managuador needs more than a few barnyard animals to get back to normal.”

“Excuse me--”

Another of Jessica’s friends…Malcolm knows her from years of teas and committee meetings. Mrs. Warburton, widow of the late Arthur Cuthbert Warburton III, is a notorious hypochondriac, always willing to talk about her symptoms but seldom making any attempt to actually guard her health. She’s in her late fifties, at least sixty pounds overweight and she probably wants to ask Edrisa what the symptoms of Amazonian hemorrhagic fever are…and then pester her doctor for testing because she’s sure she has it.

“Someone said you’re a doctor?” Mrs. Warburton is studying Edrisa as if she doesn’t quite believe it. Certainly her image this evening is more green goddess than white-coated wunderkind.

“That’s right. I’m a pathologist.”

“Really? That’s perfect, because I’ve got this rash on my arms…they started itching a few minutes ago. And I feel funny--my face feels numb--” She’s speaking more slowly than usual, Malcolm notes.

“That sounds like an allergic reaction,” Edrisa surmises.

“She’s allergic to shellfish,” Malcolm blurts. He can think of two separate occasions when she ignored her dietary restrictions and had episodes of anaphylactic shock. Mother had not been pleased.

He’s about to open his mouth and bellow, “Does anyone here have an Epipen?”, which will really give his mom a reason to drink, when Edrisa asks her the same question.

Meekly, Mrs. Warburton holds up her clutch. “Yes….”

“Let’s get you taken care of,” Edrisa suggests. “We’ll go into the ladies room and give you a dose and see if that clears you up. It should.”

Malcolm breathes a sigh of relief as Edrisa leads Mrs. Warburton away. For a woman who claims she’s a pathologist because she lacks people skills, she’s certainly saved the day here. Malcolm would rather not cause any major disturbances at the event if he can help it, and thanks to Edrisa’s deft handling of the incipient crisis, he hasn’t.

“Darling!” There’s Jessica, looking suitably glamorous for the occasion in a little black dress and statement diamonds. “Where’s your friend? We haven’t been properly introduced. Milt and Suzanne were telling me that they’re going to make a lovely donation to the door prizes, and apparently it’s all thanks to her.”

If the prospect makes her happy, her expression gives nothing away. If the words ‘Amazonian Hemorrhagic Fever’ ever came up in the conversation, she’s not letting on.

“She’s helping Mrs. Warburton,” he explains. “She was having an allergic reaction.”

Jessica sighs. “Of course she was. It was the appetizers, wasn’t it? She can’t resist crabmeat, and she knows better. I’d better go make certain she isn’t served the ceviche!” She departs, diamonds twinkling in her wake.

The guests are trickling in, more and more of them. Jessica’s is by no means the only little black dress. There are adventurous ladies wearing grey or silver or other metallics, even a few in shades of red or scarlet, but as she crosses the ballroom floor toward him, he realizes Edrisa the only one in green. The dragonflies dart across her bosom in the light of the chandeliers overhead.

“Got her all sorted out?” he queries. She smiles back, amused.

“Oh, sure. I just didn’t think it would be appropriate to give her the shot here--” She gestures to the ever-increasing throng. “And we had a little talk. I warned her about the dangers of disregarding allergic triggers…I think she’ll do better now.”

“This has been going on for years. She had one episode--heck, Dad was still at home at the time! And it happened again a few years ago. She’s _chronic_.”

Edrisa’s smile is impish. “She was confusing pathology with dermatology…I set her straight.” Oh, that smile is wicked--he waits with anticipation for her follow-up…. “I warned her about the symptoms of an allergic reaction like hers, up to and including death, and then I described how her autopsy would be carried out. I really don’t think she’s going to go near another nibble of shellfish any time soon.”

“That’s inspired…I adore you.” He honestly didn’t know he was going to say that before the words tumble out of his mouth, but it’s true. The thought of Edrisa cheerfully describing the methodical post-mortem of Mrs. Warburton to her fills him with giddy glee.

She gives a little bounce of pleasure, making the dragonflies take flight again. 

“Come on,” he suggests with a conspiratorial grin. “Let’s mingle and see who else we can horrify some donations out of before dinner.”His grin broadens. “Do our bit for Managuadorean relief.”

A giggle from his green goddess. Edrisa doesn’t need diamonds; she has that sparkling sense of humor instead. This evening promises to be much more fun than the usual ho-hum rubber chicken.

Sometimes in life, the mistakes turn out to be anything but.

…

**Author's Note:**

> Managuador is a fictitious country, and as far as I know, there is no such thing as Amazonian Hemorrhagic Fever. Nothing here is intended as medical advise, do not chug bleach, please take your meds, live long and prosper.


End file.
